


Nah, No Kissin'

by x_x



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 08:03:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17403152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/x_x/pseuds/x_x
Summary: Wrex finally gets Shepard to come to him, but why has she been holding back all this time?





	Nah, No Kissin'

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nony from the mass effect kink meme](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=nony+from+the+mass+effect+kink+meme).



> originally a kink meme fill. i had promised to post this on ao3 years ago, and COMPLETELY FORGOT. i'm so sorry, op!!! not sure when exactly this would take place; maybe some years after a better ending to ME3.

 

 

Maybe he was just old, but Wrex had never before found courtship to be the tricky art that many romantically-challenged fools played it up to be.

 

Most females of alien species had simple demands: floral arrangements, chocolates, poetry. Krogan women kept an even shorter wishlist: children. It wasn't biotic science.

 

But Shepard?

 

Whenever the Spectre dropped in on Tuchanka, Wrex always made sure to have preparations set so that there was a thresher maw waiting in vicinity of the proving grounds, just for her. It had been worth the glow of astonishment on her face the first, second, and third times. Nowadays, it was just as valuable to have her flash that expectant, wild grin (more like a show of teeth than of cheer, a krogan grin) at him in passing as she went to claim her welcoming gift.

 

"Order received for another thresher maw barbecue party!" she crowed to the young krogans trailing in the wake of her sweeping entrance as her party marched through the camp.

 

The younglings tended to flock around Shepard during her visits; they viewed her with wide-eyed worship, no doubt only bolstered by Wrex and Bakara's own reverence towards the little human. It worked that Shepard had an odd soft spot for krogan runts.

 

She continued addressing her fanfare. "And per usual, we'll also be providing entertainment in a hot minute!"

 

"Just so you know, you're doing most the work," Garrus quipped. He was much more grounded now, in comparison to the wide-eyed, slack-jawed reaction the first time he'd seen a maw in the flesh. Looked like he'd gotten a talon on the thresher maw drill after being run through the gauntlet this many times. "I'm only tagging along for the food."

 

"Officer Vakarian, your intended joke falls short of point considering that thresher maw-based comestibles are of opposite-chirality to turians," the robot EDI remarked.

 

"A pity, really, because venomous, predatory worm-giant comes across as oh-so-appetizing."

 

Shepard scoffed. "It's never worth having if it isn't capable of killing you."

 

That philosophy won a hail of shouts and cheers from the younglings surrounding them. Wrex himself had snorted with empathy. As if she could sense his amusement, Shepard glanced over and caught his gaze in that moment, red-lit eyes glinting. Wrex felt his hump grow hot, but otherwise returned her nothing in regards to expression. A female krogan in proximity could immediately note the pheromones he knew he was giving off, although with the genophage gone, no one would ever suspect a human was the catalyst for it.

 

Aside from Bakara.

 

Blasted woman always shot him these snide glances whenever Shepard was planetside. Liked to tease him whenever she was his mating partner for an eve, with seemingly innocuous conversation about the anatomy of human females, their smaller frames, their softness, the oddly floral smells they gave off when fertile. But Wrex knew her game, and time and again told her to butt out.

 

"Humans severely lack our abundance of time, Wrex," was the last (direct) word she'd spoke of the issue. "I wouldn't put off this conquest for too long."

 

To be short, he was glad to not have her anywhere nearby now.

 

She seemed to think it as a simple matter of direct proposition. Humans weren't like asari, though-- that is, universally compatible with any sentient species thanks to their mind-melding gimmick. The rest of the galaxy relied heavily on compatible anatomy: a deal-breaker for most when it came to consummation. It was why any interspecies pairing that wasn't some kind of combination with an asari was rare...especially long-term. It was why Wrex had no expectation beyond pining for the human who'd kept him so rapt.

 

He waited until Shepard's squad and the throng of younglings were well gone into the Rite arena, and then went to find a female to get off with.

 

By the time Shepard had finished her work with the maw, Wrex had gone through three mates. Each were taken in different positions, but with the same mindless, brutal rutting that left them hide-scuffed, sore, and very pleased, that would have left a human woman bloody, pulpy, and very dead.

 

 

 

 

 

He could smell her arousal.

 

There were many cooking fires lit throughout the clan grounds, all heavily flanked with stakes that held fresh, smoking maw meat. Dust was being kicked up from all the lively foot traffic. The air was thick with pheromones ignited by the glorious slaughter. And still, he could pick her out, stark against the others.

 

He was sure that even if any of his clan could pick up on the slight, drowned out scent, none would recognize it for what it was. But he knew it well. Shepard always smelled like this after a good fight. Battle was like foreplay to her. The rougher the tussle, the hotter it made her.

 

Even now, her face was slightly flushed with color, and she restlessly shifted her weight. She kept glancing back at him, too. Licking and biting her lips. Wrex stared coolly back, ignoring the pulling sensation in his groin.

 

This was routine, though. Wrex would give her a maw, Shepard would get worked up in slaughter, and then she'd be flashing those heated eyes at him all evening. And then...nothing. She would remain clear of him. It was a good thing he'd spilled seed thrice that day, otherwise it would only be a few more blinks of those shiny human eyes and he'd have to drag her off with him, whether she'd expressed interest or not. And wasn't that a thought to entertain….

 

The runts were trying to re-enact Shepard's battle with the thresher maw. Shepard had no qualms against joining their ruckus, criticizing their performance and inaccuracies, correcting the parts they got wrong, coaching them into a higher standard of extravagance. She didn't speak gently to them, either, instead falling to her whip-crack Commander voice-- something which naturally endeared her to them. That volatile no-holds-barred attitude she brandished, that gained her scorn from all throughout the galaxy, made her right at home on Tuchanka.

 

"But who would win in a fight between Shepard and Kalros?" one of the smaller younglings piped up.

 

All but one howled "SHEPARD!" And then proceeded to dogpile the poor whelp that dared go against the bandwagon by yelling "Kalros!"

 

Shepard was beside herself in laughter, the sound ringing clear and true and melodic against the harsher backdrop sound of krogan festivity. She was looking almost inclined to join the mass grapple.

 

Again, she glanced back at Wrex, almost as if she wanted to see how he weighed in on the antics, the smile on her face fading as they locked gazes. There was a pause to her movement. Then, she was reigning back in the spill of emotion that was her expression, and turning away, tucking her hair behind her ear.

 

It was this infuriatingly subdued impasse between them. He wanted her. He was certain of her desire for him. But something was keeping her at bay.

 

To his disgruntlement, the list of possibilities of exactly what was endless, and yet all of these factors could be neatly summarized in the fact that he was krogan. Heavy enough to fatally crush her if he lost balance, big enough to misshape and fatally shift her organs if he attempted full penetration, and in any case he had to direct his libido into reviving the krogan race. And it didn't escape him that krogans were far from the most sought-after species that aliens tended towards for bedding.

 

Still, even with his vexatious longings, he knew that ultimately, she owed him nothing. Just as he was well aware of his own outstanding debts to her. If he could pay in thesher maws, so be it. And if she looked his way now and again, and was even slightly tempted, he would call that a triumph in itself.

 

Except, she looked back at him again. And this time, it seemed laden with intent. She held his gaze, as if steeling herself.

 

And to his surprise, she made her approach.

 

"You've really put effort into this," she remarked casually, playing an air of detachment despite the darting nervousness in her eyes that gave her away. "For a while now, too. It's difficult to ignore at this point."

 

It was a bit odd that a symbol of visceral trauma from her past could bring her so much delight. But one soon grew used to Shepard's antipathy towards expectation. Admittedly, it was just one of the many things that Wrex found so desirable about her. Krogans, generally speaking, liked crazy.

 

Wrex knew of Akuze-- everyone did, at this point. He could still recall the human crew on the old Normandy murmuring amongst themselves. It was unheard of that he, during his Rite, had slain a maw on foot. And yet Shepard had slain three during her species' first encounter with the beasts, while the rest of her pissant comrades fell. Of course the rumors caught his interest.

 

There was no disappointment to be found, either. He remembers the day he'd been in-squad along for a mako ride on some remote rock; one of the worms had sprung from the ground, and Shepard's reaction had been to drive right for it. For fun.

 

Oh, Wrex should have known he might be in trouble right then. The recall of the rush he'd felt at the time, a feeling that hadn't stirred since his bloodlustful youth days of mindless rutting. The realization that this ephemeral human might be worth her salt-- this rarity shining through centuries of easy money, mundane kills, and genophage. The way she threw her head back and laughed madly after the maw whipped its length at them and sent the mako rolling, dashboard lights flashing in alarm.

 

Those days he spent as a part of her crew had won over his interest and respect, and she'd solidified his resolute fondness upon her death. 'Well. That was it, then,' he'd thought when he heard the news, feeling remarkably gutted as he returned to his homeworld, swamped with the dastardly wish to inexplicably see her there upon his arrival. The body had never been recovered, after all.

 

Wrex used to think she was a waste of a human, that she should've been born krogan. A time or two, he would let his thoughts drift on the rare what-if that he normally found redundant. In his mind, things either were or they weren't. Back then, they had remained a resolute 'weren't'.

 

And now….

 

Now, the Reaper was was won. The genophage was cured. The krogan population was expanding once more. And the cause of all these hatchling dreams coming into fruition was right there in front of him. Shepard was here, alive, and addressing his efforts for the very first time.

 

"I don't do half-assed," he said evenly, and maintained a level stare. "And I don't like to be ignored."

 

She slouched-- looking out of her element, more unsure than Wrex had ever seen her. Knock that off, he wanted to say. Why are you holding back? But they'd already gotten further along than they had ever been, and he didn't want to ruin it, as uncharacteristic of her as it was to inhibit herself.

 

And then suddenly, she reached for him. She clasped her hand around his index finger, probably because she wouldn't have been able to grip the whole in his hand due to the difference in their size.

 

Bakara caught Wrex's eye from across the way, past the main fire ring. And even though her face was covered, he knew she was smirking at him. Wrex figured it was enough that the turian and the robot had earlier excused themselves back to the ship, sparing him of anymore knowing ganders.

 

"Wrex," Shepard murmured then, eyes full of carnality.

 

Wrex could note sets of several centuries that had flitted by quicker than the two years that Shepard was dead. It had taken the shock of seeing her again piled against all the self-restraint in his being to not greet her in customary krogan fashion-- which would have involved slam-tackling her into a wall and bombarding her with as many hard hitting cheap shots he could land before she regained the wherewithal to block or dodge and retaliate. He had missed her. He could admit that now.

 

And he wanted her.

 

He wanted her.

 

He could have her.

 

He would have her.

 

He curled his finger around her small hand. "Shepard."

 

…and took her to his hut.

 

 

 

 

 

Once in private, Shepard simultaneously relaxed and looked all the more anxious. She padded into the entry room, pulling him in step with her as she turned to face him.

 

"You know, you're the only one who's ever tried to woo me with thresher maws," she sniggered, obviously trying to dispel her anxiety. "Tuchanka's gonna be extinct of 'em if you don't come up with anything new to add to the repertoire."

 

"I got some ideas on the backburner," he retorted. "Can't get any of them done while keeping you dressed, though."

 

He disarmed himself, placing his weapons on the near table he kept specifically for lazy/quick disarmament, for smoothing over the transition from conversation to to mating; Tuchanka still had a lot of land yet to be filled with the next generation of krogans. Shepard followed suit, and he was surprised all she had on her was a shotgun.

 

She shrugged cockily at his study. "I've got butchering maws down to an art."

 

"Good try, but I saw Garrus lugging the rocket launcher over his shoulder."

 

"I was just letting him hold it for me."

 

"And fire it from afar while you had the real fun."

 

A smile cracked her demeanor. "You know me too well."

 

It was true. He knew that she enjoyed being immersed in fireworks more than watching them go off in the distance. But… "I can know you better."

 

He nodded his head at a tilt, and she fell into pace with him as he led her through his home. There was still a skittishness about her. Wrex knew stalling when he saw it, and Shepard never did it. As far as he was concerned, she was built with no room for a braking mechanism. It was weird. And not in the good way he'd come to appreciate about her.

 

Shepard's footsteps came to a halt. Wrex lumbered on-- he knew her as the type to stop and have a squint at any novelty, and gave her leeway as it was the first time she'd been inside his hut-- but he took a glimpse backward to see what exactly kept her.

 

She'd stopped at the entrance to his bedroom, peering inside curiously. When she made a face at what she found within, he knew she'd surmised that the nest of pebble and gravel at the center was where he slept. Of course. Many a krogan would covet the luxury of his nest, but a human wouldn't be able to sleep in his bedding without a decent scrape. Wrex had to resist the urge to poke fun at her and the softness of her species.

 

"Here, Shepard." He lowered himself down onto his favorite chair, at the far end of the hut.

 

Her grin was back when she saw where he was, and there was all sorts of mischief playing across her features as she met him.

 

"Chair sex, huh?" she noted, climbing onto his lap.

 

He enjoyed the sight-- the fluid swing of her leg so that she was straddling him in a moment's notice, how the pose had her naturally leaning into him, hands against his chestplate to keep herself upright. It wasn't often these days that he could get this close and savor the smell of her, and never before had he possessed the convenience of getting hard while doing so.

 

She spoke quieter, bringing her hands to his face and letting their chestplates meet. "This how you want me, Clan Leader?"

 

"Indeed." He feigned apathy, trying not to let on how tight his groin plate had become around his swelling loins. All it took was his formal title falling off her tongue, and his carapace was warming up. "Last thing I want to deal with is explaining to the galaxy how I accidentally crushed Commander Shepard to death."

 

"Ooh, yeah, lovin' all this dirty talk. Crush me, Wrex!"

 

It was times like that the age difference became very prominent: the krogan with over a millennium of bad jests haunting his memory glowering from the newest addition to his unfortunate collective, and the human with a mentality comparable with a juvenile of the former's species only sniggering cheekily and quite pleased with herself.

 

He surprised the pomp out of her by flicking open the manual airlock on her armor. She gasped, probably having not expected him to know how to do that. He sat back smugly as the suit hissed, its armored plates sagging loose against the human's small frame.

 

Just like that, the heat was back in her eyes. The steady, red glow of her odd scars seemed to brighten slightly. She moved to shrug her armor off, but he nudged away her hands with his own.

 

"Let me."

 

She bit her lip and nodded.

 

Removing her armor was a wonder in its own right. The malleable underarmor beneath her hard-plates and guards was loosened now due to the lack of vacuum, but still clung with hugging fit to her body. He had to tuck his fingers between her skin and the material to peel her out of it.

 

Shepard moved to help him, squirming at first into poses that would assist him, and then squirming in accordance to Wrex's touches, which may or may not have been entirely incidental. Her breath hitched whenever one of his nails dragged past one of the glowing red clefts that decorated her figure, and he won a moan when he had to budge the taut roll of material down past her squished chest. She shivered once her pair of flesh mounds were free. He'd get around to playing with those soon enough.

 

Wrex had never been able to smell so much of her at once, more and more of her scent scattering into the air of his hut with each inch of bare skin revealed. At one point, he pressed his nostrils to her throat and took an unabashed whiff, shutting his eyes as her scent whited out his olfaction with a raw, unadultered dose he'd never been privy to before. She chortled, pushing him away from that particular area and trying to appear impartial while she did so. But he already knew what she was trying to hide; she was sensitive there.

 

As he worked on her armor, Shepard returned the good will with gestures of her own. He'd known she was an attractive reverie across all species-- status, power, and notoriety translated well between cultures-- and it wasn't surprising that she would incorporate affectionate expressions she'd learned from past admirers.

 

Running her fingertips, just the tips, along the fissures in his hide, taking special care and time for his face-- that was an asari quirk. Bumping her forehead to his, moving their noses close so that they inhaled one another's breaths, while dragging her knuckles gently along his shoulders-- clearly turian. Taking his hand and nuzzling and grazing her teeth against his inner wrist and palm-- drell.

 

He recognized all of them. Wrex had been around for a decent kiloyear, long enough to do his own bit of sampling, especially since the genophage had made any sex with his own species a depressing affair during its era of affectation.

 

It would be too much to ask for anything krogan from her. Traditional mating involved a lot of biting and clawing-- the kind would end up fatally maiming an alien species. Even if Shepard knew what to do to administer such sentiments towards him, humans lacked the strength, claws, and teeth to mark his hide. And anyway, Wrex somewhat reveled in being Shepard's first.

 

He, on the other hand, had managed to bed a human a couple decades back, when the species was still new to space travel, before they'd really begun differentiating between any non-humans and established their standards and preferences. Plus, he'd been around enough humans to know what they got up to.

 

He moved his mouth towards hers--

 

And found her palm against his beak.

 

"Uh," said Shepard. Sheepishly, she retracted her hand. "Listen, how about…how about we not do that?"

 

Wrex glowered darkly, fury overtaking him. He gritted out, "Because I'm krogan."

 

The hard impact of her head colliding with his caught him off-guard, so that he recoiled more dramatically than if he'd kept his guard up.

 

"No, you dumb alien fuck," Shepard admonished, but it was half-hearted. When Wrex did a double-take of her expression, he found frustration, bashfulness. Vulnerability. She looked away, eyes downcast. "I just-- I don't do kissing."

 

He stared, perplexed. "Kissing is a human thing."

 

Shepard rolled her eyes. "Believe me, I don't need the reminder. Because yeah, practically every human just has to do it." Her voice drooped to a sour pitch at that. "I…don't."

 

"Fine."

 

"…W-what do you mean 'fine'?"

 

"All that maw acid finally taking its toll? I don't give a pyjak's ass. Just thought you might enjoy it." He shook his head. "I'll find some other way to impress you."

 

"What the hell?" Shepard gaped at him. "Every other time I get into bed with an alien, each one them threw a fit about not being able to suck my face--"

 

"Human fetishizing. Don't let it get under your hide."

 

Shepard seemed more shocked than anything. It struck him then, forcefully, that _this_ was why she had been so reluctant with her desires. She hadn't been avoiding him; she had been dreading a bad experience. Wrex felt his mood darken at the thought of all those worthless rock-chewers being discourteous towards her that she now expected discourtesy. How they may have bitched about lack, all the while laying with someone who was their overt superior. It didn't get much better than her. But all they saw was her race, what it represented. Imbeciles.

 

He grumbled, "The rest of the galaxy didn't see much point of touching tongues until your orally-fixated predecessors started space-faring and giving everyone else ideas. Those trying a human for the novelty wouldn't see the point of going interspecies unless they got the 'full' human experience…"

 

"Ow, ow, _ow_ \-- _Wrex_!"

 

Oh. He blinked and released the grip he'd been tightening over her arms. He gave the bruises a once-over-- nothing serious. But his libido leapt again, with the knowledge that he'd marked her.

 

Shepard was also peering at the new blossoming of purple on either of her biceps, not quite unhappily. It was more wonder (and something akin of excitement?) at the reminder of how much damage he could do her without even trying. "So…to reiterate, you don't care about the 'full human experience'."

 

"That's not what got you on my lap, no."

 

"Oh. Well, then." She beamed, and didn't elaborate any more than that.

 

"What?" Wrex pressed, almost warily.

 

She shook her head, looking nothing short of openly jubilant. "Nothing."

 

Well that was odd and annoying. Wrex licked her, wet tongue sloppily trailing from her chin to her forehead.

 

Shepard sputtered and flailed. He had to grab one of her arms to keep her from toppling off him. "Are you kidding me? What the f-- _eehaheHA_!"

 

That bizarre giddy reaction…. He was gliding his tongue along her neck now. Every part of her was smooth, soft, and pliable, moved with the slightest pressure applied. The giggles were giving way to deeper breaths now. She particularly leaned into contact when his licks dragged against the point of connection between her neck and shoulder.

 

"Is it a mouth thing?" he asked.

 

"Huh?" The sound was breathy, relaxed.

 

"Your grudge against kisses."

 

"Um." Her exhale hitched when he continued down, unintentionally grazing his teeth on that sensitive nook of skin. "No. I'm-- mmh-- fine with mouths. On other body parts, oh…. _Wrex_."

 

He was tonguing those soft, rounded sacks on her chest. This was by far the strongest reaction he had drawn from her so far. His mouth was big enough to draw both her mounds in and swipe his tongue over the tips. Shepard arched into him and cried out.

 

"Here is good," he clarified, pleased with her shiver when her flesh mounds left his mouth, wet skin on open air.

 

"Y-yeah," she mumbled, words thick. She took his hand, moved it over one of the mounds. She used his palm to press and lightly knead into the shape, and then curled his thumb and index finger so that they rolled the little bulbed nub atop there, the strength in her hands ebbing as she guided him. When he took initiative and began pinching and pulling at the nub of his own accord, she outright moaned. "Yeah…. Here is… _aaahh_ …p-pretty…nice…."

 

"Alright."

 

Wrex put both his hands on her. Her skin was still slick with his saliva, and her humans bits kept sliding around in his grip. He couldn't be too sure if he was doing it a hundred percent correctly; in all honesty, he was just screwing around, entertaining himself with the gelatin feel of the bulbous heaps that were almost therapeutic in all the ways he could squish, squeeze, and tug at them.

 

It must've been at least adequate for Shepard, the way she was writhing on top of him and panting, pushing her chest into his hands as if he would dare to stop at any moment. A blush had spread from her face, down her neck, over her chest mounds, contouring onto her figure a brilliance that was only compounded by the gleam of sweat and illuminated further by the gentle red glow of her scars and eyes.

 

Palming and squeezing the mounds won him low, throaty noises. In contrast, pinpointing the balled tips were what got him the high, tight whines and hisses. Wrex held preference for the latter, but came to discover they sounded all the more raw and sweet if he pushed for the former a while before goaling for the best part. His first encounter with a human those decades ago hadn't involved nearly this much foreplay.

 

He then had the sudden epiphany that he was having fun.

 

Breeding always held the same hurried air of obligation and promise of babies down the line. It was about repopulating Tuchanka, restoring krogan presence in the galaxy.

 

But this…. No mounting. No sheathing himself in her. No promise of offspring. Simply Shepard half-stripped and responding attractively to the lightest touches he could manage.

 

And in addition to the provocative notes her voice took and how she fidgeted in his grasp, there was that odor.

 

He had aways caught hints of it during his time on the Normandy if she were coming back from a battle, and she'd been nothing short from reeking of it the moment she took his hand under the luster of the cooking fires. But now the air was heavily saturated with it. Wrex could root the source to where her thighs parted, the scent building in concentration due to being still trapped underneath her armored suit. It had been spiking since he started playing with her chest mounds.

 

Shepard was moving his hand again. He refused to budge at first-- he didn't want his fun to stop quite yet-- but when she caught his eyes with her weighty, desperate stare, he acquiesced. He still had his other hand to work with, anyway.

 

He would never have guessed she'd begin licking his trigger finger.

 

She curled his short finger and thumb into his palm, pulling her tongue along the rough surface of his index. True of her previous statement, for all her adversity to kissing, Shepard certainly did not have a problem putting her mouth on other body parts.

 

Her tongue twirled in circular patterns on the smoother textured hide, traced the angles and dips in echo to how he'd taken to her neck earlier. She ran her moist, mushy, pink-toned lips along the length of his finger, licking and sucking. As she crested the tip an umpteenth time, her eyes flicked up at him. She let his finger enter her cushiony mouth, sliding her lips downward while waggling her tongue against the underside of the digit, bobbing her head and sucking.

 

Krogan hands weren't erogenous by any stretch, but it was a marvel to watch her at work all the same. Humans and their oral fixations. The rock did not tumble far from the mountain, after all.

 

Her mouth finally released him with a small popping sound, trailing a line of drool from her lips to his finger. Catching his eye again, she smiled warmly and nipped at his finger tip.

 

Wrex assumed that this was simply another one of her substitutions for kissing…until she tugged his hand downward, pushing it underneath the hugging material of her armor suit, and curling his finger against her there.

 

"It's leaking," Wrex said, astonished at how wet Shepard's lower parts were. His finger seemed to slip against any flesh it came into contact with. Even the fabric around the area was damp. No wonder the smell was so strong.

 

"Yeah," Shepard's voice was barely a whisper. Her eyes were shut and she was using both her hands to hold his in place as she rocked her hips back and forth, gliding his finger between two slick, cushy folds of skin. "It happens. Wrex, can you--"

 

Wrex tilted his digit so that it nudged inside the wet dip between the folds. He remembered at least that much from his previous human experience as well. He heard a moist little squishing noise as entry was made, even over the strained moan that had left Shepard's mouth. She slowly pulled on his wrist, pulled more of his length into her, insides wet and twitching and squeezing tight the girth of his finger as her body shuddered.

 

"Sort of…pull towards you," Shepard panted. There was charm to be found in how she always tried to keep herself composed, even while she fucked herself on his hand. She was guiding his movements again, although this time might've been less intentionally helpful towards him, and more of an inclination to get herself off.

 

He got the gist.

 

There was a curve to the snug space, if Shepard's motions weren't hint enough of what he was supposed to do.

 

His finger was rubbing against a spongey point inside her. Wrex pressed into it, and was met with a wavering sigh. He began dipping his finger in and out, matching her slow, fixed cadence. Shepard's hips went still when he began pressing into the spongey mass more insistently, her tense gasps accompanied with that wet, squishing noise as Wrex finger-fucked her.

 

She fell forward onto him with clipped breaths, pushing her forehead to his.

 

More turian nonsense. That wouldn't do.

 

He nudged her face sideways slightly so he could dab a quick lick to the side of her face, making she smile.

 

"Is licking… _oh_ ," Shepard paused, shuddering as Wrex twirled his finger in circular motions. "Mmh. That's _hnnhh_ nice. Is licking how krogans kiss?"

 

Wrex snorted. He wanted to inform her that krogans did not 'kiss', that kissing was largely a human concept, popularized by the asari. But as he took in how she hung over him completely disheveled, how her lower parts seemed to suck and pull at his finger as if beckoning more action, how her eyes were unfocused, dilated, the red glow of them flickering as her lashes fluttered…. He could afford a bit of kindness. A bit.

 

"A krogan 'kiss' involves nails and teeth." Wrex leered at her. "Soft lovers get the soft tool."

 

Her expression wilted into a glare, and he wanted to laugh. It was a parody of the same look she got when he could expect her to unleash proper retaliative measures against whatever had just signed their own death warrant. Only now, the warning was smeared-- her skin was flushed with color and gleaming with sweat, an unmistakable desire lighting up her eyes and mellowing out her scowl.

 

"Still waiting on that orgasm, Clan Leader," she huffed at him then, licking her lips and leaning in. "Or have you given up on impressing me?"

 

Wrex growled at the show of audacity.

 

Even when it was clear who had the undeniable advantage, Shepard never misplaced the conceit to smirk like she'd already won. It was just like her. And it made his quad swell, his dick engorged and crammed against his groin plate, seeing her make that face even while he had a finger winding inside her little human fuckhole, making her quiver.

 

He plunged his finger into her leaking hole at a more rapid pace, crooking it into the spongey surface and rubbing into it with hard swipes. All pride was cleared off Shepard's face as she began to cry out in rhythm to his thrusts, her expression melting into something wedged between indulgence and torment.

 

She pivoted herself higher to give him better leverage, and Wrex didn't squander the new angle. He twisted his finger roughly, earning a surprised wail. At this point, her fluids had wetted much of his hand, and it still felt like there was more flowing out each time he pressed into her. It was…almost distracting, in how unfamiliar it was. Krogans had it much more dry. More friction that way.

 

The slipperiness didn't seem to deter Shepard a bit, though. If anything, it seemed to enhance it.

 

Her hair clung to her face from sweat, and she was squirming in his grasp, her hands wound tight at the collar of his armor.

 

"Wh-why do you feel," Shepard exhaled tightly, tense and warm and smelling and _soft_ , "so hot…. Your skin it's…."

 

"It happens," was Wrex's reply, because it would've taken too long to explain krogan biological idiosyncrasies, time better spent opening his mouth to tongue at one of her chest lumps again.

 

Shepard whined at the contact, shuddering.

 

He brought his free hand up to her other mound, rolling the tiny nub and capping it between his fingers as he tugged gently. Shepard's legs lurched forward and she cried out.

 

Keening, even as she bit down hard on her bottom lip, she reached down, again repositioning the hand that was fingering her, pulling it in deeper and bending it so that the front of her groin rubbed against the top of his palm. Wrex didn't need another tell. He pushed his palm up so she could rut into it harder.

 

Shepard's breath hitched-- just before she trilled a thick, weighted moan, jerking her hips desperately.

 

Her parts pulsed sporadically around his finger, wedging it tightly in place. But it was so wet at this point that he could still wiggle his digit around, helping her ride out her orgasm and grind every last bit of pleasure she wanted from it. It took maybe three of those long, pulsing twinges before she began to slow, moans quieting as she sank back to his lap and let her head drop onto his shoulder with finality.

 

Wrex followed her pace as she floated back down from it, slowing his finger to a lazy caress, until she placed a hand on his wrist and squeezed for him to stop.

 

He slid an arm around to her back, pressing his palm into her bare skin to help ease down the shivers that spanned her form, especially as he started withdrawing his hand from her pants. Human holes were not made for krogan size; it was so apparent the way her relaxed parts were still clung tight to his finger, and even as he pulled out slowly, Shepard's mumbled a distressed incoherence into his neck. Once it was out, it was like pulling a plug. She went boneless, curled up against him for warmth, damp all over with sweat, the smell of her sex drowning out all perception of anything that was not her.

 

"Impressed?" he pestered, for good measure.

 

She grunted, the sound muffled as she had her faced tucked towards his throat. Wrex took it as a good noise and grinned, dropping the conversation to leave her to some downtime. They'd get to him soon enough.

 

For now, he was entertained enough with her weight on him, the feel of her skin on his hands, and her scent rampant in his hut. If she brought the tenderness of this moment up later, he'd just wave it off with the reason of wanting her to be rested well enough to put in a decent effort for his turn.

 

"Hey…you wanna try it?" Her voice was cracking, probably from all that noise she'd made earlier.

 

"What?"

 

"…Kissing. I won't mind sucking it up. This one time." Shepard pushed herself up to look him in the face. Her eyes were still muzzy from climax, but Wrex could still detect the discomfort there as she made the offer. "Full human experience…right?"

 

He pulled her back down against him, wrapping his arms around her in a way that might've been less of possessiveness and more of fondness than he'd ever admit.

 

"Nah, no kissin'."

 

 

________

end.

 


End file.
